The Marriage Attempt
by noxbocksty
Summary: Eight nations participate in a gay rights protest on Valentine's Day: asking a parishioner to be married in California. USUK, Franada, GerIta, PolLiet. Rated for slightly controversial subject material and a makeout, yo.


The hot California sun beat down ruthlessly upon the two men sitting outside of an office building on a bench, hands clasped together. The smaller of them looked dreadfully nervous, fussing the hem of his sleeve with his unoccupied hand; the other was calm and had a reassuring smile on his face. Whenever the anxious one looked particularly anxious, the steady man squeezed his hand and some of his tension lessened. But foreboding still hung in the air around them.

"They're late," Alfred commented lightly, breaking the silence.

"Alfred, are you sure about this?" Arthur asked, glancing up at his companion through his bangs. "Including inviting the rest of them…"

Alfred grinned. "Sure I am! I love you, I want to show support, and I really do want to do it!"

A resigned, hiding-happiness sigh. "Alright, then. But you should have at least told our bosses."

"Frankly, my dear," Alfred said, eyes twinkling, "I don't give a damn." He pecked Arthur on the cheek, so sincere in this action it made Arthur blush in embarrassment. Alfred smiled radiantly now, and gathered his boyfriend in his arms. Arthur struggled half-heartedly, but eventually settled on lifting himself up to sit on his captor's lap. Alfred looked absolutely delighted.

"Man, Artie," he chirped, his arms winding around to encircle Arthur's waist, "You usually aren't this open to my hugs! Not that I don't like it, but what's the occasion?"

Arthur squirmed, blushing again (something that happened far too often for his dignity's liking). "Well, considering what we're attempting to do, I just thought…" he trailed off, discomfited. He seemed to remember himself when Alfred bounced a leg up from underneath him, dislodging the Brit; the only thing that kept him on were the arms around his waist. He squeaked (adorably, Alfred thought, clutching him tighter), and then took a deep breath. "Ijustthoughtitwasverysweet!" he rushed out. He continued at a slower pace, "A-and I wanted you to know that, even though I snap at you all the time, I love you a rather lot, and you always seem to like doing such coupley things so I thought it would make you happy if I complied…" He was nearly whispering by the end, avoiding Alfred's gaze in mortification. He firmly believed the words, of course, but he wasn't awfully good at sounding sincere in what he was saying. If Alfred had said it, Arthur would have believed them fully, giving himself over to the pure happiness pounding through his American's veins. "You're always very kind to me, and I yell at you; I just wanted to try and do something in return…" At the words, his cheeks were pink and his ears red.

Alfred had never seen anything cuter in his life.

"You're so kyooooot~" he cooed, burying his face in Arthur's face. Arthur yelped.

"Don't do that without warning me!" he blustered, then cursed at himself for the reprimand. He was trying to be nicer, dammit…

Alfred smirked at him, looking rather devilish, and Arthur was suddenly wary. "So I'm allowed to do it if I tell you first?" Arthur didn't reply, determinedly gazing ahead and away from the other. "Hah! So you _do_ like couple stuff!"

Arthur simmered, trying to remove the blush from his face by thought alone. He didn't shout, though, and he considered that a personal victory.

"I mean, even though you're always so uptight about everything, I know you love me! And you sat on my lap and I only hugged you so maybe I should hug you more often? I-"

Not able to stand it anymore, Arthur turned around. But instead of yelling, he performed the most obvious course of action: he placed his hands on Alfred's face and kissed him.

It was effective immediately.

One of the things Arthur both loved and hated about Alfred was that he was prone to affection anytime, anyplace. He loved holding his hand, loved pecking him on the cheek. They could be out shopping and Alfred would try and convince him for a quick fuck in the restroom, insisting they wouldn't get caught. World meetings were just an opportunity to play footsie, which Arthur tried not to show his reaction to (God, the embarrassment…), and making out in that ever-occupied closet. This was all a result of Alfred getting over the homophobia instilled in him first by the Puritans and then by generations of his people, and Arthur thought this touchy-feeliness was better than denying they even had anything and skittering away from being touched. So Arthur put up with it.

But his over-willingness to shower his boyfriend in affection led to Arthur taking a slight advantage of this (Alfred did not mind at all). He had been a pirate after all, and was always up for "plundering some booty" (bad, bud pun fully intended; damn that Wales). Besides, Alfred was a good a lay as any; better, in fact, at least to Arthur, because when they made love, they _made love_.

He swung his leg up to straddle Alfred as the man kissed him back fiercely. Arthur had let go of Alfred's cheeks to wrap them around Alfred's neck as the American carded his fingers through his hair, just wanting to be closer in their metaphorical cloud of bliss. Yes, they were in public, but it was okay as this helped the point they were trying to make.

The office building they were outside of was a parishioner's office. They were going to ask for a civil partnership.

It was Valentine's Day and Alfred had asked his boyfriend to help out with a gay rights protest. Gay marriage, unfortunately, was banned in the most populous state (along with most of the rest of them), and Alfred, being gay (or bisexual, or whatever nations were) himself, wanted to support the cause. Gay and lesbian couples, today, were going to ministers and such and asking to be married, because they love each other and wanted to be together for the rest of their lives in happiness. Alfred had once shared that he thought gay couples would last longer than a lot of other marriages do, simply because they had to fight for the right to wed. Arthur didn't know if that was true or not, but it was certainly a nice sentiment.

But enough thought; Alfred was pushing his tongue against his lips and that won out over philosophy about marriages. Arthur opened his mouth in compliance and their tongues fought for dominance.

"Ah, bonjour! It seems we have come at the right time!"

The two quickly broke apart, bright red, to find a chuckling Francis with his arm wrapped around the waist of an even brighter red Matthew with a white paper rose nestled in his hair. "S-sorry to interrupt, eh…" Matthew muttered, looking anywhere but the couple.

"Ah, no, no, it's all Alfred's fault really." Arthur removed himself from on top of Alfred, which may have been the reason for the American's pout before he registered what Arthur had just said.

"Hey!" he squawked at his partner-in-public-indecency. "It totally isn't my fault! _You_ instigated it!"

"You know what instigated means?"

"I'm not an idiot, you know."

"Well you certainly act like one at times."

"You act like a grumpy old man and I don't complain!"

"You have the maturity of a child, that's why you believe I am so old!"

"Now, now!" Francis crowed, the look on his face one of superiority. "Let the lovers not fight! They are getting married, non?"

Matthew sighed. "This isn't my country, Francis." (Alfred turned away, looking slightly ashamed of himself.) "It isn't legal here. Yet," he added when he noticed his brother's crestfallen look.

Arthur glared at Francis for making Alfred have that sort of hangdog expression; it wasn't the nation's fault if some of their people were bigots. "He told you it wasn't happening for real, Francis. It's just a protest, you don't have to rub in his face why he even _needs_ a protest."

Francis held up his hands. "I was not meaning to hurt cher Alfred's feelings. I was making a little joke."

"Extremely little, Francis."

"You wound me."

"Exactly."

"Let's not fight!" Matthew burst out, looking flustered, and Francis was immediately upon him, murmuring in French.

"Ciaoooooo!" Feliciano came around the corner, waving a bouquet of red roses. "Helloooo, everyone!"

"Sorry if we're late," Ludwig, following behind him, said gruffly. "We got held up at the airport, then the florists…"

"No prob," Alfred waved away the apology. "We were gonna wait until everyone got here. Where're Toris and Feliks?"

Arthur turned to his partner. "You invited _them_?"

Alfred shrugged. "Why not? Toris is my friend, and they'd be willing to. More the merrier!"

Right on cue, the two walked crossed the street to them, Feliks switching his walk in a white minidress. Toris hurried behind him, looking apologetic. "So sorry, Mr. America," he said. "We-"

"Call me Alfred, seriously man."

"Oh, sorry! We overslept."

(Behind Alfred, Arthur whacked Francis on the head for giggling like a schoolgirl at that. Matthew, again, looked worried.)

Feliciano bounced up to Matthew, twittering brightly, "Alfred! That's such a pretty flower in your hair!"

"I'm Matthew," corrected the man in question, then blushed, and continued, "Um, thank you…"

"Mon cher made it himself!" Francis proudly announced.

"And, ah, that's a... nice dress you're wearing, Feliks." Matthew said, trying not to look at the Pole's legs as he thrust him into the conversation.

Feliks brightened up at the mention of his clothing. "Oh yeah, totes! I got it at this bridal shop in Szczecin, _such_ a cute place!"

"That's sooooooo piuttosto!" Feliciano cooed, fussing with some of the lace on the sleeve. "Don't you think so, Matteo?"

The Canadian flushed, not used to so much attention. "Ummm, yes..."

Feliciano and Feliks went on to happily talk about absolutely nothing at all, and Arthur took that time to say lowly to Alfred "See, _that_ is the reason for my trepidations." Alfred shrugged lackadaisically in response, just breathing in the sunny air Arthur was not used to _because it was February and the sun does not shine in February_.

There was further idle talk and chatter, heavy anticipation growing in the air until Alfred finally said, "Well, let's go in! He's bound to be back from lunch by now!"

So all eight of them walked, two by two, into the office.

"Well, that didn't go well."

"Bleeding git."

"I hate this…"

"Non, non, don't cry mon amour! There will be another day, hush…"

"Ve, I forget what 'illegal' means, Ludwig! Can you translate it for me? English is a silly language~"

"…"

"That, like, total jerk! He oughtta that mile-long stick outta his ass! I bought this dress and wasted it on him!"

"Feliks…"

They stood outside the parishioner's office, all with sad looks on their faces, but none more so than Alfred, who looked absolutely depressed. They said quiet goodbyes and dispersed, talking amongst themselves about Disneyland or the San Diego Zoo. All except Alfred and Arthur, who returned to their bench.

As soon as Feliks' skirt tail disappeared around the corner, Alfred broke down into tears. This time, Arthur gathered him into his arms, patting his back and stroking his hair.

Alfred quieted quickly. "'M really sorry," he mumbled into Arthur's coat.

"It's not your fault, luv."

"Yeah it is!" With the protest Alfred lifted his head. "They're my people and my people are part of me! I should be able to change myself!"

"Al…"

"Oh-oh my God, what if they change me?" He looked scared at the thought. "I-I don't want to fall out of love with you! I-"

"_Alfred._" Arthur said firmly, placing a finger over Alfred's lips. "Our relationship is based off political and cultural ties- how some of your people feel about homosexuality won't change that. But that doesn't mean we don't truly love each other, of course." He paused to press a kiss to Alfred's forehead. "To a certain extent we are our own person, and I want to be that person with you." At this confession, Alfred's cheeks became dusted in pink, and Arthur kissed him in the same spot again, enjoying the fact that he was the one to cause this. Him, and no one else. "Now, let's go. It's still Valentine's Day and I want to do something other than fail at getting a marriage license." Standing, he grabbed the American's hand and pulled him up with him.

"Sorry." The look Arthur shot him as he pulled him along the sidewalk plainly said that the Englishman would have none of that.

"As I said, it's not your fault. Now, you live here and I don't, so why don't you choose a restaurant?"

"No McDonald's, right?"

"No, somewhere nicer. And the new décor does not mean nicer," Arthur reprimanded, and Alfred smiled at this, not a full on grin, but a sincere little smile.

"And then?"

"We can go home and do other things." At the promise, Alfred looked delighted again, and Arthur thanked the Lord that his boyfriend was so easily made happy. Alfred now led the way, chattering excitedly about the nice little family-owned restaurant just a few blocks away, and Arthur followed him with no resistance.

_Finite._

AN: Wow, that ending sounds kind of dark. Sappy VDay sap is sappy and totally BS'd up day of. I swear. I heard about these protests on NPR that morning (this takes place in LA, by the way, and I have no idea of my way around it since I live in the OC, yo, so forgive any inaccuracies) and it's like OMG PERFECT :DDDD. I actually thought of Gertalia being genderbent but just decided to keep the characters as they are. Speaking of, it was so weird to use the human names so much. Eh, tastes. This is an emotional story and crap.

Piuttosto= pretty, blah blah blah  
Matteo= Matthew, which sounds pretty gangsta

The "little joke" thing is actually a reference to Star Trek TOS. Anyone catch it?

Our fast food restaurants are going under mass redecorations. Did you know that?

EDIT NUMAH WUN: I corrected some spelling errors and things~ I type messily.

Best regards,

Zinc


End file.
